The Curious Kelvic and the Nosy Nuit (Completed)

[Anselm]

The Curious Kelvic and the Nosy Nuit 61 Winter 511 Marketplace in Zeltiva OOC : Continued from The Fortune Teller. “Now, my dear. Would you prefer that I answer your question before or after you tell me what it is?”

[Ndale Soromund]

Her first instinct was to kick and or peck at the man for the sudden touch but she ignored it, it was not strong and she doubted any ill intent. It was almost like he wasn’t there. Gently though she pulled her hand away to take the correct sum from her purse and slapped it to the table with a grin which only grew wider as he listed of her race. “Yes!” But the word was quickly overshadowed by her next questions, nearly turning it into one giant phrase or word of itself, “What is on your hands?” She had seen humans wear them before but had never the time nor chance to ask them what it was, it was bad enough they wore so many clothes, why purposely cover more skin? Shaking her head she wondered at the human mentality briefly before her thoughts returned to the situation at hand. “Now, my dear. Would you prefer that I answer your question before or after you tell me what it is?” Seeing as she could not think of a question she nodded, her whole body bobbing in anticipation, more data for her journal and maybe something interesting would happen! “Answer it now. I don’t know what it is.” Her fingers idly tapped the coins as she searched over his face, as if waiting for him to change into something or the wind to blow the tent over considering it’s sudden force. Either or would entertain her for the moment being.

[Anselm]

This is interesting, he thought. He tilted his head to one side. The before or after question was intended to be a joke. It was meant to put his customers at ease. This was the first time anyone had chosen the before option. She was beginning to irritate him. But then he often found Kelvic's irritating. They appeared to be human and he was pretty good at reading humans. But then their animal aspect would inevitably make itself felt as a kind of counter-current just beneath the surface, which made them unpredictable. Especially if he wasn't familiar with the animal form, and in this case he didn't even know what the animal form was. So he couldn't predict how she would react, especially if she was under duress. And pretty much everyone who came to him was under some kind of duress or they wouldn't be there. “My dear,” he said patiently. “How do you expect me to cast an oracle to answer your question if you yourself don't know what your question is?” He held up his hand in a dismissive gesture when she started to say something. “But no matter, no matter. We will work with what we have; with the implied question. The implied question is, What question should I be asking?” He brought out a small cloth bag, carefully opened it and poured the contents into his right hand. He held his hand open so that she could see the set of small carved bones with intricate etchings on them. Then he reached over with his left hand and again placed two finger gently on the back of her hand. “Sometimes knowing the right question is as important as knowing the answer.” He turned his hand and let the bones fall on to the surface of the table. Then he studied them. He intoned the oracle: Inside is earth, submissive. Outside is heaven, strong. Submitting to one's desires, outwardly acting adamant. Negative energy is in charge, while positive energy retreats. Because strength and receptivity are separated, it is called obstruction. He looked up at the Kelvic. “That is the answer. Just out of curiosity, What is the question?” OOC : This is a reading from the I-Ching, or Book of Changes, a Taoist classic. The reading contains multiple levels of meanings and often requires careful study before it reveals its secrets. Perhaps the best way to think about it is as a mirror in which some aspect of yourself is revealed. You read the oracle, but the oracle also reads you. I cast this oracle randomly for this story. I find it interesting that it speaks so well to the situation of a Kelvic.

[Ndale Soromund]

The man did not answer write away and for some reason it was only then that it Ndale realized his name was indeed Anselm. She stared at him curiously, trying to see beneath his hood, why did he hide his face? Was it scarred? She found herself leaning to the side and nearly falling from the chair in an effort to sate her curiosity. But when he spoke her attention snapped back to the man her eyes searching for something to lock onto and pair with the voice. “My dear,” he sounded almost annoyed, it reminded her of the tone Mi’vive used to use when she had had enough of Ndale’s questioning, “How do you expect me to cast an oracle to answer your question if you yourself don't know what your question is?” She answered without remorse, meaning no ill but speaking her mind. “Then you cannot do it?” His dismissive gesture waved off her more than rude question, busying himself with gathering the necessary items. “But no matter, no matter. We will work with what we have; with the implied question. The implied question is, What question should I be asking?” She liked this man! Intriguing, that is what he was. He words and mannerism were different, vague, hidden much like his face. But his words did prompt thought, why had she come into the tent? Nostalgia? Her mind had gone back to her surrogate mother the moment she had seen the tent and back then she had not known her question either, she simply wanted something answered. It was this same feeling that prompted her to constantly search, to scout out humans both for information and some deeper purpose but what it was she wasn’t sure. Kelvics were not uncommon but coming by any readings of them was not easy. She heard Avanthal was quiet knowledgeable but she had no desire to go there. During her musing her eyes had carefully followed his movements, the small bag, the little symbol covered bones and most importantly his fingers reaching for her hand once more. Her train of thought halting at both the words and touch, her mind scrambling to catch up with what her eyes had seen and what was being said. “Sometimes knowing the right question is as important as knowing the answer.” She had no idea what he meant but before she could pester and pelt him with questions he began to speak again. “Inside is earth, submissive. Outside is heaven, strong. Submitting to one's desires, outwardly acting adamant. Negative energy is in charge, while positive energy retreats. Because strength and receptivity are separated, it is called obstruction." She did not understand! What did that mean to her? Simple words. For all she prided on knowledge and the written word she felt a surge of abject anger. It wasn't fair! What she had come for she didn’t know but a part of her had, she wanted to find that which searched for. To name the thing she wished for most. Snapping her jaw open and shut she for once could not find her question or thoughts. But when she looked up finally the man was looking back at her, a question falling from his lips “That is the answer. Just out of curiosity, What is the question?” “I wished to know but neither you nor Mi’viva can tell me what I do not understand!” she let out a breath, sounding almost like a low howling moan before continuing, “And neither can fortune telling give me what I search for.” She did not like this feeling, this ‘pain’ now she understood why the woman before had been so angry when she had asked her to describe this type of pain. It was…not interesting. She wished for no part of it. Stubbornly pushing her thoughts aside she pointed at the man’s robes and spoke loudly, an obvious strain in her tone. She wished for nothing more than to shift and be gone. “Why do hide beneath your robe? Are you disfigured?” Ah. The usual Ndale was back, if not worse for the wear but it brought no small bit of comforting to her confused thoughts.

[Anselm]

Anselm carefully gathered up the bones and put them back in their pouch, which he then returned to a pocket inside his cloak. She was obviously frustrated with him. He had never understand why people got angry with him when they didn't understand the oracle. It wasn't his fault they couldn't be bothered to actually think about the words he gave them. For whatever reason, apparently the oracle carried no special meaning for the young Kelvic. She was, however, refreshingly naive. No hidden agenda. No ulterior motives, at least not that she would be consciously aware of. She simply said whatever was on her mind. A rare talent in Anselm's experience. So he decided to oblige her. “One should always be careful what one asks for,” he said as he reached up and pulled back his cloak revealing a head of thinning, stringy gray hair hanging down to his shoulders. The black shadows under his hollow eyes were easily visible now. There were scabs here and there on his face, and the skin hung loosely from bone and cartilage. He pulled his cloak back and fluffed it, sending a stench toward the Kelvic, which usually made people gag. “You see, my dear, you are not the only one with a divided nature. In your case, the inner nature is Earth, submissive. The outer nature is Heaven, strong. It is the opposite with me. In my case the inner man is Heaven, strong. The outer man is Earth, submissive, weak, decaying.” He pulled the cape tightly around his body again and pulled the hood back over his head. “In my case, strength and receptivity are joined. It is called harmony. But in your case they appear to be separated, which is called obstruction. Your two natures are not in balance, not in harmony.” He stood up and limped over to the tent entrance. He carefully reached up and pulled down the two sections of the opening, closing them off from any curious on-lookers who might wander by. He turned and faced her. “I am Nuit. A living soul dwelling in a dead body. You are Kelvic. Show me your animal form.”

[Ndale Soromund]

“One should always be careful what one asks for,” Her previous frustration was completely eradicated the moment Anselm took off his hood. The man was repulsive, like a decaying carcass. It was fascinating! She found herself inching forward with much thought, her fingers lifting to see if the face was real but when he ruffled his cloak. Her sense of smell may not be her greatest asset but even she could pick up the aroma but it was not so much as a bad smell as it was a warning that the food was not good here. All the same it was more proof than her fingers could have felt and she fell back into her seat, “Your dead.” It was a mumbled whisper over-ridden by his explanation, but she could not focus on the words, she was barely understanding humans as it was. Magic was not something she was informed on, given her heritage and it seemed strange to her that a something that should be scavenger food could walk and talk the same as any live thing. It didn’t make sense. And that was specifically why she disliked magic, it defied everything, turned everything wrong and deceived the senses. It was meant for trickery and deceit and nothing good came of it. But this magic, this was…she could not stop herself from the questions that bubbled behind her lips. She knew she should leave, magic always brought trouble but she wanted to see more of this…what exactly was he? “In my case, strength and receptivity are joined. It is called harmony. But in your case they appear to be separated, which is called obstruction. Your two natures are not in balance, not in harmony.” Not in balance? What was he talking about? But again, she could not focus on his words, her eyes narrowing as he moved, tracking him carefully as he wandered over to the front of the tent, her body tensing like a bow string being pulled to far back. The non-human was up to something. And the moment her pulled the drawstrings and closed the tent her body jerked upwards, as if trying to flutter away in human form, her back digging into the table. An odd sound tore through her, a mixed between a howl and a squawk or as close as she could get with her human vocals. “I am Nuit. A living soul dwelling in a dead body. You are Kelvic. Show me your animal form.” Nuit? It did not matter, human, Nuit or dead man, he was trapping her. She found herself skittering around the table anxiously. Why did he want her animal form? To trap her? Ravok was not far by boat and neither was Sunberth. She did not trust this man! Her mind was whir and though she desperately wanted to change and flee, all thoughts of fortune telling now gone, a strand of human common sense held her back. If the animal form was what he wanted then she would do the opposite.

[Anselm]

Anselm realized his mistake at once. The poor girl had apparently never seen or imagined an unliving creature like himself. Now she was in a panic, a near frenzy of fear. To make matters worse, he had inadvertently created the impression that she was trapped inside the tent with him. He threw open the tent flaps, moved to the side of the tent, sat down on the ground and held his gloved hands out palms up in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. He pushed his hood back so he was once again fully visible to her, and then he established eye contact. “Please, my dear,” he said in a quiet voice. “Don't be frightened. I will not hurt you.” He placed a mild suggestion in her mind: He seems harmless. “I'm just a nosy old Nuit who is curious about what your animal form is.” He seems curious. “You certainly don't have to show it to me if you don't want to.” He added a feeling of safety. And then, knowing more than a little about Kelvics, he brought to her mind the sudden thought: I could help him. “Having said that,” he continued. “It would be a great honor to see you in the splendor of your animal form. Perhaps you can find it in your heart to humor this nosy old Nuit.”

[Ndale Soromund]

The tent flaps flew open and the burst of light surprised her, it was never completely bright in Zeltiva, at least not in the Winter season but Ndale still found herself gasping slightly. At the same time she felt a tad of her rational come back now that there was an escape route in sight, though his actions stopped her from fleeing the tent. He had sat himself comfortably, in a gesture she instinctively knew to be submission her eyes locking on his warily. Anselm reminded her of two kinds of animals, both a predator and the prey, shifting back and forth, then again most humans—though he was far from human—reminded her of both. Their moods and emotions changing rapidly, their thoughts never stable, it was confusing, nearly as confusing as his words. For when he spoke it was as if he was inside, a strange slippery feel, like something trying to cling to her and slipping, like water over a stone. But it was still seeping in and drying, the thoughts her own and yet she knew they were not for she had not thought them or had she? Safety. It was the most prominent thought there, overriding his words and mushing them as she attempted to concentrate on the foreign feeling pulsing through her. What was it? Magic? Humans most assuredly dabbled in it. She felt a shiver of fear go through her, humans with magic were dangerous, sneaky, awful like things but… “It would be a great honor to see you in the splendor of your animal form. Perhaps you can find it in your heart to humor this nosy old Nuit.” The feeling faded and although her heart beat in time to a Taloba drum and she did not move from her position behind the table. The feeling of safety she found herself thinking of was only words she could not actually feel safe. But the man seemed harmless enough now, the shadowed light revealing his face, his palms open and he made no move toward her that would be otherwise suspicious. It was her voice that found itself first, her lips twisting into a wary grin, “Honor? By animal?” She tilted her up slightly, eyeing him, feeling more comfortable the more he stayed like that, so long as he made no moves… “I will…humor you, Nosy Nuit.” Her grin had faded into a half smile and she carefully began to disrobe, there was no shame in her actions, she did not particularly care if people walking by seen, unless it got her into trouble…again. It was simply what she had to do in order to shift forms and not damage her human skins. Her eyes never left the Nuit’s though, unless clothed block her view and even then they stayed in the same position, watching for any sign of falseness. When she finished slipping out of her clothing she carefully scooted back to the front of the table, one step forward and it was as if she was falling. Her perception of the world shifting from both the height difference and the alignment of thoughts, now she could hear better the pattering of feet on the stones, see clearer the man, this Anselm , in front of her. She made no move closer, a bit of earlier distrust still present but she moved back and forth across the tent, revealing her entire bird form to him before stopping once more at the front and center of the table and cocking her head curiously. What would this odd man do next?

[Anselm]

“Well!” said Anselm, remaining seated. “A peacock! Or rather a peahen. And a leucistic one at that. I've never actually seen an albino peacock before. Or peahen for that matter. No wonder you're so jittery. You're prey to any predator that happens ...” “Hey you!” A big burly man was approaching the entrance of the tent at a fast walk. It didn't take a genius to see that he was angry about something. He pointed his finger at them and shouted, “You been messin' 'round with my wife an' I'm gonna rip your limbs off one at a time and feed 'em to my dogs, you rottin' stinkin' pile of speshlug." The last word was in a language Anselm didn't know, but he could make a pretty good guess at it's meaning. Anselm glanced at the peahen and asked, “Anyone you know?” When the peahen shook her head in the negative, he said, “I was afraid of that.” By now the red-faced man had reached the entrance of the tent and turned to face Anselm. It was clear that he intended to do the old Nuit some serious harm. Anselm sat unmoved, watching the big man intently. The man reached out to grab Anselm but then stopped abruptly and let out a yelp. He covered his right eye with his hand and backed away in surprise. As he did, he nearly backed into the peahen, who quickly skittered around to the other side of the table with a yelp that sounded a bit like a cat getting its tail stepped on. “What the hell?” He screamed as he pulled his hand away from his face to steady himself. His eye was watering and squinting badly and it was obvious he was having trouble getting it to stay open. But he regained his composure sufficiently to offer some insight into what he thought about the whole thing: “I'm gonna kill you, Nuit!” Anselm still hadn't moved, but his left arm appeared to be hanging limply at his side. He cast a quick glance at the peahen and said, “Feel free to jump in any time.” OOCFull disclosure: I took this scene right out of another thread that appears to have died for lack of interest. I hated to see it go to waste.

[Ndale Soromund]

“Feel free to jump in any time.” Why should she jump in, it was not her fault the human had gotten himself attacked. Inching along the edge of the tent she attempted to avoid the clumsy new comers stomping feet, was he trying to crush her on purpose? She had been heading towards her clothes but then the oaf stepped too close to her, effectively knocking into her and annoying the large bird. An indigent call was all the warning he got before she peaked him roughly. It always surprised her how fleshy human were, and her beak sank a ways in before she jerked back, more irritated than before. She did not wish to taste this nasty thing! She did not wish to leave her clothes either. But the two humans were in her way, like some strange human dance they darted around, one shouting and cursing the other calm and avoiding being hit. She had had enough though, puffing herself up she gave an angry honk and surged forward, their momentary pause allowing her to rush under the table and get to her clothes. Now her only problem was taking them out, they were becoming a hassle and she was tempted to leave them. Her debate was cut short though as the human who had interrupted knocked into the table--they were so clumsy!—and sent the leg into her back. Her body pitching forward and nearly sprawling. She needed to leave before she was crushed! Using her head, the large bird pushed her clothes along the floor and attempted to creep out the back of the tent but the way the little fort was positioned it lead straight into dead ends and walls. She was not getting out without crossing the two men. Swinging to face the two brawling men it look more like the street entertainers she had seen the day before, dancing around each other, barely missing but when these two connected it sounded painful. It was not the same jovial atmosphere and it was serving only to make her tense, anxious, she did not want to be here. But apparently leaving would not be so easy either. So far she sat unnoticed but when the man shoved at the Nuit and he moved to avoid it, the man’s gaze swung to her, then down to the small hole in his leg and back. “Petching bird!” New target. Once more she puffed herself up as the man crept around the table, his grin promising a few lost feathers. Desperation and righteous indignation bubbled from her gizzard as the man cornered her, kicking a chair towards her to trap her in the corner. She could not get under the legs and when she pushed it, he pushed back. An angry honk left her but she had deflated, giving up the pretense of trying to scare away the man, the honks turning into frightened, rapid chirps. Her mind was a whir, the pain on her breast constant and rough, random thoughts and images trying to override the pain. It was not until she gazed at the chair once more did the bird have a quick thought, something she had seen humans do before, both in jest during entertainer’s performances and in bars when they were drunk. Kicking her feet she found it took more focus than usual to shift, the pain interfering with her mindset but she knew she was successful when she felt the chairs pressure relocate to her legs, releasing slightly as the man jumped back in shock. Still disoriented and vision being worse than usual the bird gripped the chair clumsily and swung. It connected solidly and she her the shout of pain and anger, a few other choice words and the promise that the man would come back. Shaking she sank to the ground. Coming to the tent had been a bad idea, a very bad idea, she had already discovered two emotions she would rather never have to deal with again.